


What he did in the dark

by YellingAtPlants



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Evil Uther Pendragon (Merlin), Gwaine Being Gwaine (Merlin), Gwaine Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Merlin Needs a Hug (Merlin), Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Protective Arthur, Protective Gwaine (Merlin), Protective Merlin (Merlin), Sleepy Boys, Sleepy Kisses, like seriously, uther is a massive dick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:48:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 13,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22928230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellingAtPlants/pseuds/YellingAtPlants
Summary: "What do you mean, he strangled Merlin?!"In which Gwaine punches the king and Arthur ignores his feelings.
Relationships: Arthur Pendragon & Uther Pendragon (Merlin), Gwaine & Merlin (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 115
Kudos: 663





	1. No Hero

**Author's Note:**

> Wouldn't let me do italics :(  
> Hope it isnt too hard to read without

Arthur wasn’t prepared for the possibility of his father trying to kill Merlin. He knew the two of them didn’t get along, Merlin's status as servant providing the king with the perfect excuse to hate him for no good reason, but he thought his father was better than that, to attack someone as they couldn’t fight back. 

But seeing Merlin be strangled slowly, pinned against the back of his throne set a ticking bomb inside Arthur, one that was only seconds away from exploding in his father's face. He could barely drag his father off, trying to free Merlin from the leathery death grip around his frail neck before the damage was undo-able. There was no sign of his usual stupid neck scarf, instead there was a scarf made of violent coloured bruises decorating the pale expanse of skin, bruises that should never have been there in the first place. Merlin was worryingly still, his lips chapped and blue, adding to Arthur's angered panic, he just needed a sign from his servant, anything to prove that his father wasn’t actually aiming for a kill. He wouldn’t believe Merlin was dead. His father appointed Merlin himself, killing him now in cold blood was a low blow even for such a cold man. 

“Let go of me you fool; I am the king!” Uther lashed out, catching Arthur across the cheek with his gloved hand. Arthur stood frozen in shock for barely a moment before he yanked the king's hands behind his back and dragged him forcibly to his chambers. He locked the door from the outside just before the shouting began, and was forced to listen in dismay as his father listed all the ways he was going to make the servant wish he was never born. Dragging himself away, Arthur tried not to run as he went to check for Merlin's pulse, finding him slumped in a heap at the foot of the king's throne. Just where Uther thought he should be, grovelling at his feet. Each step was a loud presence in the echoing room, and the sound of his own breathing rattled in his ears, his heart pounding at the sheer terror of losing Merlin. Just when had the man become so dear? Slowly, more gently than a man of his strength should be able to manage, Arthur rested his fingers over Merlin's neck, gasping audibly at the fluttering pulse beneath his fingers. How long had marlin been suspended by the throat? Long enough to kill him, and yet here he was, fighting to keep breathing, his chest rising and falling with shallow little breaths. His father was going to regret touching Merlin, one way or another. 

Merlin didn’t stir until two days later, and when he did, he was dazed and confused. Arthur had tucked him into the prince's bed after Gaius had treated his visible injuries, feeling that Merlin deserved the comfort of a nice bed after all he’d been through by his father's hand and admittedly feeling the guilt of not noticing anything before Merlin was out cold and near-dead. He wouldn’t blame the man for fleeing Camelot the moment he was conscious, but he knew he would be here until he died, like he had promised him that one weird night after the questing beast attack. A death that would be sooner than any of them wanted if Arthur couldn’t get the king under control. Uther was out of his chambers, and each time the footsteps echoed in the hallway, Arthur would tense, his hand leaping to his sword to protect the fitfully sleeping Merlin. each of the pale man's precious breaths were laboured, and each time he whimpered, Arthur's hand was in his hair instantly, stroking his sweaty bangs back out of his face. The bandages looked out of place on him and Arthur wished he wouldn't ever have to see his manservant so hurt again. 

After the first day, colour had returned to his chapped lips, and by the end of the second his eyes were slowly opening. He never stayed conscious for longer than a minute before whimpering and drifting back into an unsteady doze, only for a nightmare to wake him up minutes later. Arthur was there through it all, despite telling himself he didn’t care, and each time Merlin reached for comfort, Arthur gave it. In the end the only way Merlin would sleep was against Arthur's chest, his face buried in the prince's tunic. Despite his initial panic, because oh god's Merlin should not look cute or delicate like this, Arthur found he enjoyed having Merlin this close. He settled his hands in Merlin's hair and promptly fell asleep. 

Waking the following morning was slow, both men curled closer to the other than they remembered, and neither of them willing to give up the steady support. Merlin's shaking stopped when he realised where he was, and a little smile settled on his face after seeing Arthur's sleeping form. Cautiously, he tried to sit up, wincing at the bruises on his legs he must have got from the solid wood of the throne; His throat ached something rotten and he still felt lightheaded, but he found himself walking around the room completing little chores anyway. Picking up clothes, stoking the fire, opening the curtains as quietly as possible, knowing Arthur won't have gotten much sleep over the last few days. Even this little slip from their usual routines felt so wrong, and doing the chores felt right, a familiar landmark. Admittedly, he felt better knowing Arthur had finally caught his father in the act. He wasn’t going to hide everything anymore, not now that Arthur had seen a little of what his father was capable of. When his prince woke, he was going to tell him the truth. The thought made him feel lightheaded. Settling into a chair, he sat in front of the fire and finally let his bitter tears fall, hiccuping quietly as they landed in his lap. The king had been doing this to him for so long, it was magic that Arthur hadn't noticed his father's actions until it almost resulted in his own death. But that wasn't by Arthur's own fault, Merlin had kept the whole situation as low as possible for as long as possible, he couldn’t stand the thought of being the reason Arthur had a fight with his father. But when those gloved hands wrapped around his neck, he lost control of the simple blocking spell he’d been using. The thought of Uther's hand made him hyperventilate and very quickly he found himself on the rug by the fire, gasping with his hands at his neck and tears in his eyes each time he sobbed his throat hurt worse, and each little throbbing pain sent him spirally again he couldn’t move, couldn’t anchor himself to anything, there was nothing solid around him to cling on to, his breathing quickened and his chest burned as he slumped on his side. He passed out right there on the rug. 


	2. Prince-like cuddling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't push it, merlin"
> 
> In which Arthur partakes in platonic, very prince-like cuddling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some fluff before it gets to the angst

Only to wake an hour later in Arthur's bed. This time, unfortunately, there were no signs of the prince anywhere, no mess, drawn curtains, crackling fire. Wait. Merlin had opened the curtains, right? Right, Arthur must have closed them again after lifting me into bed, he thought, flushed in embarrassment at the thought of Arthur finding him in such a state. The poor man didn’t sign up for dealing with an injured Merlin, and suddenly he felt guilty being here at all. With a miserable sniffle he rolled over to Arthur's side of the bed, nestling his face in the cushions there and weeping. He felt so pathetic, crying in the crown prince's pillows, but that didn’t give him any control over it, just a cold feeling over his heart and a dull ache to serve as a reminder of his competence. If he’d been better, it never would have happened. eventually he cried himself to sleep again, feeling downright miserable after being so weak in front of his prince.

Arthur returned later that evening. He'd had busy meetings all day with people he hated, was forced to look his father in the eye and smile, all the while trying not to ignore any nobles lest he seem rude. It was exhausting, and all Arthur wanted to do was curl up in bed with Merlin. 

Wait. 

When had that become a thing? In fairness, Merlin had spent the last few days nestled in his blankets. Yeah... It was just his brain getting used to an idea. Nothing to worry about. He opened his door slowly, trying not to startle Merlin. Finding the man unconscious on the rug was bad enough, the last thing Arthur needed to do was scare him away. Gaius recommended rest, water and warm mead, so that’s what Arthur ordered to his room before he left. He was going to care for Merlin whether he liked it or not, and he noted with an odd sense of satisfaction that for once his heart and mind were in line with one another. The manservant came first, princely responsibilities later. Arthur smiled at the rare sight of a calm, relaxed Merlin, hidden in among all the pillows Arthur insisted on keeping around. He was suddenly glad of his own stubbornness, and before he even realised, he’d done it, he’d crossed quickly to Merlin's side, gently rested his hands in his hair and was absently petting the wild curls. He'd never seen Merlin's hair so alive before, curly and slightly matted at the sides where he’d slept on it. It was a good look on him. Not that Arthur thought he looked good at all. That would be ridiculous. With a heavy sigh, he walked back over to the desk, a part of his brain singing over finding Merlin on his side of the bed. He got none of his important work done that night, trading it in for cuddles instead. Not that it counted as cuddling, more comforting, for Merlin's sake. Of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is super short because im publishing it during school (im so dead if they catch me lmfao), but it gets good next chapter! Gwaine emerges and the knights all act like mother hens to merlin


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin begins to recover, but their routine bed sharing hasn’t gone away.  
> Merlin is pleased.
> 
> Gwaine makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say thank you so much for all the lovely comments! You guys are amazing, I’m sorry I haven’t had chance to reply to you all!  
> A longer chapter this time!

Merlin appreciated the effort even when he was asleep. Even when he was under, he felt warm hands running over his sides and tucking the blankets back over him. The feel of Arthur's fingers in his hair was welcome anytime, especially when his hair was as matted and curly as he thought it might be. Gaius had told him once he looked like a mop when his hair was bed-ruffled, and ever since he flattened it out using magic every morning. Now Arthur had seen him like that. He groaned, suddenly feeling very awake, hiding his face as best he could despite the bruises littering his entire top half, Arthur would never stop teasing him over that. There were worse ways to spend the rest of his life, he supposed. Slowly, he rolled over and blinked his bleary eyes open. Instinctively, he reached for his magic, barely catching himself a second before he pulled the curtains open from a mile away. Arthur was at his side immediately, and merlin noticed, with a soft smile, that Arthur looked genuinely worried about him despite him only being a very incompetent servant.

“Good of you to finally wake up merlin.” he smiled a little despite visibly trying not to, and merlin grinned as wide as his bruised cheeks would allow. Arthur really did care.

“Well” he coughed on the word and immediately there was a goblet raised to his lips. He took a small sip before trying again. “well, I have fair reason to be.... tired” he managed eventually, after fighting with his vocal cords for a couple of seconds.

“Oh?!” Arthur smiled, looping an arm around merlin's back and helping him upright. “I noticed you did some chores earlier. You don’t even listen to orders when you almost died, do you?” Arthur was trying to sound exasperated, but the fond twinkle in his eyes betrayed him to merlin as he helped him with his tunic, looking away as merlin pulled on a new one, held the goblet of watered-down mead, ran his fingers through his ruffled hair. By the time the two of them left the room, they were both smiling and composed. Merlin couldn’t wear his neck scarf because of the bandages, and he found himself missing it, running his fingers over the lush fabric of the shirt Arthur had let him borrow rather than keep on his bloodstained one. The fabric was a rich purple and sat just past his hips when held up with a belt, it felt like cotton over his shoulders in comparison to his own rough clothing. And it was Arthur's. That was a small bonus. Nobody stopped them in the corridors as they headed down to the training grounds, slightly slower than usual but otherwise acting like nothing had happened over the last week. Arthur had wanted merlin to take the day off, but after arguing over breakfast, they headed down to the training grounds as a compromise. There wasn’t anything particularly taxing for merlin to do for work, and Arthur got the chance to hone his skills. They hadn't taken Gwaine into account, who barrelled into merlin the moment they were in sight, almost sending them all to the ground. He hugged merlin close for a moment before pushing him away slightly to examine him.

“Are you positive I can't kill the king, princess?” he growled, fingers brushing over the bandages with a deepening scowl. The knight was very protective of merlin, they all knew that, but it was still shocking to see the pure fire in his eyes.

“Really quite sure, Gwaine.” he chuckled, steering merlin over to the bench. “Sharpen the swords, but otherwise just relax, get some fresh air. Oh and no shouting.” he grinned before heading off into the training grounds, sword clasped tightly in his hand. Merlin smiled to himself, closed his eyes and let himself drift away with the weak winter sun on his face and bitter wind biting his skin enough to keep him from falling asleep fully. Somewhere in front of him, swords clanged in a familiar melody, falling into place like the pieces of a puzzle in Merlins heart.

That night he expected to be sent back to his own room, since he was conscious and lucid now, but after he’d completed his chores, Arthur had poured him a glass of wine. Now they sat, relaxed, in front of the merrily crackling fire, Merlin absentmindedly playing with the ring on Arthur’s finger. The Prince didn’t complain, just smiled into the fire, far away in thought. About what, Merlin had no clue, but he was surprised to discover he didn’t mind. He was dosed with pain relief, warm, happy and comfortable. So he shouldn’t have been shocked he dozed away in the chair barely five minutes later. Strong arms wrapped around him, lifting him carefully and walking over to the bed. He felt someone untie his boots and heard them thud beside the bed, and if he concentrated he could hear Arthur getting ready for bed. His heart soared that this was just what happened now, and when Arthur did get in bed, he took his chance and nestled as close to his side as manageable without hurting himself. They fell asleep that way, wrapped around one another, and woke the next morning impossibly closer. They didn’t discuss it.

Every evening after he’d done his chores he’d lay on the rug with a drink of some sort, lulled into a state of calm by Arthur’s ranting and the usually merry fire. It was a new part of their routine that just happened without them ever discussing it, and Merlin was so much happier for it. Because he was warmer and more comfortable when he went to sleep, he woke up brighter. Because he was already in the room, he could allow Arthur to sleep in longer. It was a far better arrangement.  
But Merlins magic itched to be freed after so long of not using it. He wasn’t allowed to do his more manual chores yet, so he didn’t need his magic. And he was feeling the consequences of it staying dormant. He sighed, rolling over on the pillows with a raspy cough. Sometimes, his throat would flare up, like now, and he could barely speak amongst the coughing.

“Has....” he tried, but was forced to clear his throat a third time. “Has the King spoken to you at all Arthur?” they’d stopped using titles days ago, and it was easier for Merlin to pretend they were simply friends rather than master and servant. It was so nice to be this close to Arthur, that he knew it wouldn’t last much longer.

“This morning he asked if I’d seen you and I told him you must be out on errands for Gaius.” The Prince chuckled, his hand carding through Merlin’s hair absently. Merlin was settled as the foot of his chair today, resting his head against Arthur’s knee. The Prince took the offered chance.

“Thank you. The thought of him catching me in here.” He shivered, and Arthur’s hand subconsciously tightened in his hair. “I’m sure he’ll forget all about it in a week.” It was a false hope, it had already been a week since he was rescued, and Uther showed no signs of letting him get away with his life. But it was still a hope, however fabricated it seemed to be.

“Of course, he will.” Arthur muttered, and like every night, he stared off into the fire until Merlin began to fall asleep, then he lifted him into his arms and deposited him on what had become merlin’s side of the bed. The whole room had tiny signs of Merlin everywhere, and it seemed that the Prince didn’t mind at all. Merlin curled up small and began to drift away, but not before Arthur’s warm arms wrapped around him, holding his back close to his chest, effectively shielding Merlin from the outside world as he slept. And Merlin smiled softly, his heart so full of love despite everything Uther had done. His son was so different, and each day Merlin learnt that anew. Every time Arthur unknowingly erased a fear, or a memory, every time Arthur welcomed him in his Chambers and in his bed like he was worth more than just a servant. Every time Arthur smiled at him, merlin’s hope for Albion cried out to him, loud and clear, that this was the one true king of Camelot. Merlin smiled slowly, resting his head against Arthur and drifting into a light nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, next chapter out within a week ❤️


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The king puts his plans into motion, and Arthur is forced to play along with the twisted game.
> 
> The prince just wants his father to back off and stop ruining their peace, but that’s too much to say aloud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry it’s been so long! I decided to put this story on hold until I’d finished the series, so that I knew how to characterise them 
> 
> Uther is very evil in this story,,,thank god for slightly ooc caring Arthur

Once merlin was once again tucked into the blankets, Arthur sighed and left his chambers to find morgana. Gwen had noticed merlin's bandages earlier that day, so now he had to go and explain to morgana what had happened in a way that didn’t feed her desire to kill the king. Damned sorcery making everything complicated. The last thing she needed was magic to kill their father with. He marched down the hallway, not noticing his father trailing close in his shadow, murderous intent in his cold eyes.

The moment Arthur was far enough away, the King slipped into his sons Chambers, finding exactly what he knew he would. The servant boy was asleep in Arthur’s bed, looking calm and happy, as if he belonged there at all, a simpleton of a peasant boy, not only sitting on the bed, but sleeping there contently. Temper rising, Uther scanned the room, taking in the extra wine goblet, spare empty plate and general disarray of the room that contained distinct items that didn’t belong to Arthur. The stupid neckscarves were strewn about the floor, old worn boots at the bedside. Even a book, that the king barely looked at twice before moving on. So not only was the boy manipulating the Prince into caring for him, he also wasn’t doing his job. That was enough of that. His cold hands had wrapped in the boys hair and pulled before his thoughts even caught up, and when he let out a surprised yell, the king applied pressure to the side of his throat until the servant collapsed completely. Maybe he wouldn’t kill the boy just yet. There was so much he needed to be punished for. 

Uther would not see his own son become soft. A king who held people close was a king who left himself vulnerable. He must rid them of Arthur’s weaknesses if the boy could not do it himself. Satisfied with his plan, he hoisted the limp form across his shoulders and slipped away, sneaking in the shadows like an invader of his own castle. Apparently he needed to hire better guards too, but that was the least of his worries as he closed the door to his private back room that hadn’t been used since Aredian. It was a perfect place to keep him while he worked. The boy would learn how to be a proper servant if it killed him. And so what if it did, he was easily replaced. 

Nobody would miss the troublesome child, the king was sure, but nonetheless he got to work immediately, not wanting to waste his precious time. 

***  
Arthur didn’t panic. That wasn’t what happened when he walked in to find Merlin missing. If one were to ask the guards, they would confirm that he definitely didn’t call them in a state of confusion, and that they definitely didn’t have to calm him down when he couldn’t find his manservant. He was calm, and knew that the man had just gone for a little walk, or to visit Giaus. He wasn’t overthinking or panicking about where Merlin was, because he wasn’t protective and it didn’t matter.  
But Merlin hadn’t gone anywhere without the Prince for a week, and Arthur had grown used to their new routine. That way, he could keep the clumsy servant within goblet throwing distance to hit him whenever he got too cocky. But that wasn’t the truth of it either, his thoughts strayed to Merlin again, standing in the middle of those chambers that were more theirs than his now, tiny trinkets and signs of Merlin filling the once cold spaces. They hadn’t stopped to talk about the change, but the way things were naturally progressing, Arthur assumed Merlin would tell him where he was going. 

Which led to his current non-panic, involving storming around the castle like his own personal thunderstorm and bellowing his manservants name loud enough they probably heard him in Mercia. His throat was raw when he was done, but there was still no sign of his bumbling manservant anywhere. The idiot usually came scampering after the third or fourth call, and he felt a shiver up his spine. It was nothing, nothing was wrong, it was fine. He was just overthinking things and needed to go to bed. Alone. And cold, since everyone just neglected to stoke his fire. Sighing, he dragged his feet back to his room, missing the King entirely in his state. If he’d noticed him, he might have noticed the cold smile on the man’s face. 

***  
So far, the King thought they’d made great progress. Not only had the boy been staying conscious for longer, but he’d also started using his title, scrubbing his boots and even washing the floor. Maybe the boy had potential to be a good servant, if it wasn’t in his blood to be an irritating peasant. The boy would hum or whistle as he worked, but Uther was training him out of that annoying little tic too. No need to keep anything that was... Him, he just needed the parts that knew how to kneel and serve. And he knew how to get what he wanted. A carefully stoic mask hid his glee as he took long strides to the throne room. He was going to send for Arthur and have the boy serve him for the duration of dinner, and then, well, and then the evening belonged to him and training up the newest proper servant.

A good evening indeed.

***  
If his father expected him not to realise something was terrifyingly wrong with Merlin, then Arthur decided he’d underestimated him. This obedient, boot licking, lapdog of a servant was not his Merlin, and Arthur was genuinely afraid of what his father might have done to him. There was no physical damage this time, only the faded bruises and Merlin’s shattered voice, now the king had chosen to break Merlin’s mind.

The Prince didn’t know what to do anymore. He was being forced to choose between his father and his friend, and he realised sharply that it was an easy choice.  
Merlin. He had to find a way of keeping him closer. He sipped his wine.

“Father, I must request a few days away from duty in order to do a patrol of the northern borders. I have reason to believe we should be fortifying them.” He hated his own voice when it sounded so puppet like, but it was a necessary evil to convince his father.

“I see... And will you be accompanied by enough knights to ensure your safety?” the Kings voice was just as cold, and the two other men had to hold back shivers.

“Along with my manservant. We will need another packhorse, it’s all he’s good for anyway.” Arthur nearly choked getting those words out of his own mouth, but what worried him was the way Merlin didn’t even flinch. He had to get him away from Camelot.

“Are you sure he is a requirement, I am sure another, more competent servant, would be of better use?” this was a game of calculating stares Arthur had played since he was a child, and he carefully folded his hands beneath his chin.

“I was hoping to... Well, between you and me, beat some sense into the fool. Clearly I have not concentrated on his training enough, and so I will take him to the borders to prove a point.” Again, where Arthur expected at least an indignant huff, Merlin only blinked at the ground. Maybe Arthur had been too slow...

“Ah but of course. If you do not wish for them to... Interfere.. I believe you can take care of yourself.” Uthers delight made Arthur feel sick to the stomach, and he swallowed his words thickly.

“To better manservants.” He raised his goblet, silently praising himself when his hand didn’t shake.

“To making competence from fools.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll so how quickly I can get more updates out, let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlins not acting like himself, and Arthur plans to fix it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m suddenly updating this very quickly lol, hope you all enjoy the bonus updates!

Merlin was sick in the chamber pot when he returned to his room in the physicians Chambers. He curled up small on the rickety old bed, smelling vaguely of his own vomit, and struggled not to cry. Crying was a sign of weakness. That wasn’t allowed. Crying was loud. Loud was annoying. He stifled his sobs in his pillow and fell asleep that way, trembling beneath his threadbare blanket.

He rose before the sun the next morning, dressed himself properly and walked silently past Gaius and straight out of the door. He walked past maybe three maids who were up at this ungodly hour on his way to the kitchens, and two manservants on his way to the Prince’s Chambers. For a moment he paused. He knocked with his foot, his hands full, then pushed the door into the room with the toe of his boot.

Silently, he set the table for breakfast. Without a word, he tidied away all the general mess Arthur left about.  
And, with a heavy heart, he threw all of his things in a basket and shoved them hard into the back of Arthur’s wardrobe, waking Arthur with the way he angrily slammed the wooden doors shut on everything he prized, not even able to shed any more tears. He could only stare blankly at the doors, wishing they would open and give him back those weeks of his life where he was safe with Arthur. Arthur’s arms around him. Shaking his head sternly, he marched to stand beside the door, hands clasped behind his back, and waited like the perfect servant for his Prince to wake.

***  
The morning was a quiet one. Too quiet, for one with Merlin in it, and Arthur realised belatedly that he hated the cold silence. It didn’t feel right, and he sat up slowly, feeling groggy and disorientated after spending the night alone in his bed. Strange, how his body had already adjusted to having merlin so near to him at all times, that it felt like a part of him was missing. With a glance over to the table he noticed a plate full of his favourite foods, alongside a goblet and pitcher. And finally, once his eyes had raked the room, they fell on Merlin, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, the picture of a perfect servant. The sight made him vaguely sick to the stomach as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and pattered barefooted to eat his breakfast. Merlin seemed to snap out of his stupor, and for a moment it seemed like he was going to make one of his usual comments. But then the familiarity vanished, and instead he poured him a goblet of water and moved back towards the wall, almost ghostly in his motions.

“I’m sure you heard last night Merlin, but I wish to take you on a hunting trip. However, unlike what I said to my father, I have no desire to hurt you.” The Prince hadn’t realised he’d softened his voice like talking to a cornered animal, but clearly it was the right thing to do, because Arthur saw a glint in those blue eyes. It was fleeting, and barely noticeable, but so mischievously Merlin that Arthur found himself relaxing. He’d have to work doubly as hard as his father, but he’d do anything to bring Merlin out of this shell he’d been forced into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual I crave feedback, so let me know what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur realises theres more work to do then he initially thought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its been so long, heres a longer chapter to make up for the wait

As Arthur had hoped, the moment they were out of sight of Camelots walls, his manservant relaxed. Usually Merlin tried to hide it, but this time, Arthur could hear his shaky exhale, the way he shifted in the saddle to get more comfortable, rather than sitting like a perfect servant. Arthur smiled to himself.

“So, Merlin, since I know you don’t go to the tavern, what do you spend your days off doing?” he eventually broke the silence, their horses trotting steadily further from Camelot, and both men becoming steadily more relaxed. Arthur cursed inwardly when merlin tensed up again at the question, subconsciously cringing away from Arthur in his saddle.  
“How’s this then. What can you tell me about the herbs in these woods?” he tried instead, relieved when Merlin seemed to move enough for their horses to be almost side by side.

“T-theres some wild garlic t-that grows here.” Merlin’s stammer was barely more than a whisper beside Arthur, and the Prince struggled not to frown at the uncharacteristic shyness.

“Does Gaius have you collect those?” he kept his voice quiet, in the hopes it would help Merlin realise he wouldn’t be punished just for breathing.

“S-sometimes he puts it in the food.” His manservant’s replies, although quiet and short, were more than he’d gotten out of him in days, so he counted them as a victory.

“I can’t imagine plants making things taste better.” He scoffed, ensuring he sounded appropriately disgusted. Like he’d hoped, Merlin’s eyes widened, and then the raven haired man scowled.

“A-actually I’ll have you know that G-gaius-“ Merlin cut himself off before he even got started with his retort, and Arthur internalised his disappointed sigh.

“What else, does Gaius have a particular herb he needs often?”he wasn’t going back to Camelot until Merlin responded to him again. He wanted his overly tactile, completely unprofessional, too wise for his class manservant back, who would call him out on his rudeness.

“He uses a lot of y-yarrow. And sometimes p-poppy seeds.” Merlin brightened slightly and leaned down carefully, plucking something from the overgrown path as they trotted by. But then, once again, a shadow crossed his face, and rather than explain himself, he looked down at the ground, refusing to look at Arthur.

The Prince let him be for a while, and they rode in silence past the trees. Eventually, his manservant loosened up again, and although he didn’t speak, he was far more relaxed, petting his stallion and watching the birds fly around him.

“F-for your information, Gaius is a great cook.” Merlin spoke so uncharacteristically softly Arthur almost didn’t hear him, but he let out a surprised laugh when he did.

“Oh, I’m sure he is.” He shot his manservant a fleeting smile before raising his palm in a slowing motion. Immediately, Merlin slowed his horse, and they both fell silent other than a quiet clunk as Merlin handed over his crossbow. There was as a rustle, then a small rabbit ran across the path, Arthur aimed, fired and the rabbit fell. Arthur felt rather than saw Merlin flinch away from the bolt as it was fired, but didn’t think twice on it, instead hopped down to retrieve his kill. Merlin hopped down beside him, frowning blatantly at the rabbit dangling from the Princes grasp.

“What? We do need to eat.” Arthur huffed defensively, sending a smile to his manservant to show him he wasn’t really offended. He watched a battle happen in Merlin’s eyes, and then his face went blank.

“I S-see.” Merlin’s stammer sounded so unsure, and Arthur’s heart clenched tightly in worry. He’d hoped some fresh air would relax Merlin, but more work was clearly required.  
“If we ride constantly for the rest of the day, we can reach the lake before sundown. We can rest there until morning.” He waved with his free hand as he tied the rabbit to the saddle and swung back onto horseback. Merlin clumsily followed suit, and Arthur heard a quiet hiss of pain when he sat back down stiffly. 

“Yes sire.” Merlin’s voice was small, and he never used Arthur’s title normally. Arthur knew then that his father had done too much damage, and he really began to worry about how much merlin had endured for his sake. His father was not known for being merciful, especially to those he believed a threat, and knowing Merlin, he didn’t make things easier for himself in the slightest.

“Are there any herbs you think gaius might need? I know a lot have grown near the lake, it cant hurt to look.” He offered the topic of conversation carefully, knowing his chances of getting a response were slim. 

“Yes sire, I know he is low on poppy and yarrow.” Even the short response made Arthur let out a soft, relieved breath. He could get his Merlin back, he was sure of it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlins not having a great time, but arthur is trying his best to help, even when merlin pushes him away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! 
> 
> poor merlin :(

Everything hurt. Merlin realised that the moment he hopped up into the saddle and headed out of the gates. The back of his legs burned, his knees ached, especially when climbing on or off his horse. His vision was fuzzy in one of his eyes, another thing he hadn’t noticed until they were already out of the gates. He didn’t dare use magic to fix the problems because Uther would know. He couldn’t let Uther banish him, he had to be by Arthur’s side, no matter what the personal cost.

He was so exhausted by the time they reached the lake that he almost rode straight into the water, drifting off slightly in the saddle. Luckily, Arthur’s fighter instincts had kicked in and grasped the reigns, steering them to a sudden stop, throwing merlin to the ground. He ended up in the lake, anyway, coughing and spluttering as he surfaced. He flinched violently away from Arthur’s hand when it moved to lift him out of the water, a whimper slipping from between his lips before he could muffle it. His quiet sounds quickly became a yelp when two strong arms scooped him under the armpits and tugged him onto shore. Despite what had happened, touch being associated with pain, he latched on, clinging to Arthur’s shoulders like his life depended on it. Which it did, really, since he was definitely going to get hypothermia from his soaked clothes.

“Shh, its okay Merlin, please relax. Hey, come on, easy.” Merlin’s nails were digging into his arms, so hard it must have hurt, but the Prince didn’t flinch, pulling him closer so that he was in Arthur’s lap, his head resting in the crook of his neck and his legs tucked up as close as they could get. He was shaking, frozen solid, but Arthur was warm. Maybe it was safe to sleep now… he was ever so tired, and Uther wouldn’t know if he just napped a moment…

He was shaken awake again a moment later, and he whined in protest, attempting to go back to the nice dark place. Each time he closed his eyes, the prince would shake him gently, and he was getting annoyed. It wasn’t his fault he was so tired. In fact! It wasn’t his fault at all!

“Stop that, prat, I’m t-trying to sleep!” he growled, curling closer and nestling into Arthur’s neck. To his annoyance, the blonde didn’t seem to get the message, waking him up again just as he’d slipped away. 

“I SAID STOP IT! LEAVE ME ALONE.” His scream ripped out of him before he could stop it and he scrambled away from Arthur as the tears began to flow freely. He tumbled backwards, trying to put distance between them, and only succeeded in rolling back into the lake. His sobs came in earnest then, his aching shoulders shaking with the force of his pain. He was going to be hit, crying was loud, he wasn’t allowed-

“Merlin, listen a moment. Just stay still and listen a moment.” He risked opening his eyes when Arthur spoke, and spotted the prince exactly where he’d been before... Arthur hadn’t moved towards him, but had crouched down to Merlin’s level, blue eyes filled with worry. Merlin sniffled, nodding slightly in understanding, his wet hair dripping in his eyes. 

“I’m not going to hurt you like my father has, but I cannot let you sleep either. You know better than anyone that hypothermia causes drowsiness, and if you go to sleep, I can’t take care of you properly. Please, just come here, let me help you.” The prince sounded so earnest; one arm outstretched in an offer of comfort. He couldn’t get to his feet, but he managed to slowly crawl his way back to Arthur, who’s warm arms immediately wrapped around his trembling form and gently tugged him closer. Merlin was shaking, unsure whether the hands on him were friend or foe, and just as his breathing picked up in panic, the prince slowly moved his arms away, letting merlin lean on him, but otherwise not touching. He hiccuped softly and curled closer, both craving touch and terrified of what that touch could mean.

“P-promise?” he managed to whisper after a while of listening to Arthur’s steady heartbeat, his ear pressed to the prince’s chest through his white tunic.

“I promise. Whatever my father has said, I will do everything I can just to fix it.” A gentle hand was brushing over his side, pressing gently in places but otherwise feather light. Merlin recognised the movements; realised Arthur was scanning for injuries. He tried not to flinch, not wanting to show weakness, but when Arthur’s hand ghosted over his back, he whimpered, attempting to move away from him. He wasn’t trapped, could get away if he needed to, but Arthur’s arm had tightened ever so slightly to stop him falling when he flinched backwards. Arthur continued his search, but it was clear he had questions, his fingers tenderly brushing his shoulders, watching with a calculated gaze as Merlin spasmed, his entire arm burning in agony was the small touch.

“Merlin, look at me. Tell me what happened.” Arthur was being so kind…Merlin took a shuddering breath.

“He hit me…w-with a sword…” his voice was barely a gasp, but he was shocked he managed to get the words out at all. Uther was going to kill him, he wasn’t allowed to tell, he was going to be punished when he got back-

“Okay, can I see? I need to make sure there’s no infection.” Although it sounded like a question, it was clear Arthur expected a response, and Merlin tried to curl into himself to hide. His shoulder cramped, making him bite his tongue to hold back his pained sounds. He barely managed a nod, but then his wet neckerchief was being untied, tugged off his skin with so much care. Arthur tried to get his jacket off, but Merlin realised he was shivering too hard.

“l-let me. P-please don’t ask any q-questions.” Gritting his teeth, his bent both his arms, tugging the jacket of with one hand and letting out a loud exhale once it was gone. That left his tunic. He almost whimpered just at the thought of putting his arms over his head. Slowly, he convinced his left arm to go upwards, but it wouldn’t straighten out. There was no way…

“Stay dead still merlin.” He did as he was told without a second thought, but then there was a hand on his wrist, slowly tilting his arm up. He couldn’t bite down his whimper this time, his shoulder protesting strongly to any movement, but Arthur continued, carefully pushing until it was almost above his head. Then the pressure was gone, and he was lifting his tunic off, wriggling it over his bent arms. Warm hands wrapped around his and coaxed his arms down again, and merlin realised belatedly there were tears in his eyes again. He heard a sharp intake of breath and knew Arthur had seen.

“Gods…Merlin” he was so cautious, but merlin still let out a yell when Arthur pressed his side. There was a boot print there, he had seen it that morning. There was a matching handprint shaped bruise on his left, he’d seen that one too. He hadn’t been able to look at his shoulder, but he knew it must have been bad because he’d lost all mobility in it by now. His back stung in the cold air and he resisted the urge to cover himself up as Arthur’s eyes roamed. He knew he could see the old burn scar, the faded knife slashes, even a brand on his hip. He was disgusting, he knew that, but he couldn’t bring himself to move away. He needed Arthur’s help, no matter what happened to him for asking.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is really beginning to doubt his father...especially when a few more of Merlin's injuries come to light, and Arthur discovers he has some less than professional feelings about his manservant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slightly more vivid descriptions of injury in this chapter
> 
> although if you made it this far, that's probably what you're here for
> 
> Arthur's POV this time

To say Arthur was horrified at the sight of all Merlin's scars would be putting it mildly. He’d expected most of the fresh injuries, knew his father would not have gone easy on his manservant, but he didn’t think Merlin had been attacked before. Of course, a few wounds were to be expected when Merlin insisted on doing all his quests with him, but nothing of this level. Unsure, he ran his fingers along the edge of the large burn that covered most of his chest. He didn’t know where the man had gotten it, but he did know it should have been impossible to hide. He scanned him, making note of all the older scars he had to ask about later. His eyes came to rest on the hand-print on Merlin’s side, and suddenly he felt rather sick. He hadn’t thought his father capable of…that, but there was no other explanation for where the bruises had formed. 

“Merlin…” he trailed off, not knowing what he had intended to say. His eyes fixed back on Merlin’s shoulder, and he physically flinched from the sight. Clearly, his father hadn’t hesitated much, and Merlin had been wearing nothing more than his tunic, because the gash ran so deep Arthur thought he saw bone. There was blood down his arm, and he wasn’t sure what was fresh and what had been there for hours. All of his training went out of the window, and he moved closer to examine the wound. The skin was jagged around the edges, and bruises covered any skin not sliced open, so clearly his father had hit him first. He paused. Careful not to disrupt his friend too badly he turned him around, and actually felt the colour drain from his own face. Lashes, at least thirty of them, covering his entire back and down past his breeches, some bloody, others almost healed. These had been going on for longer than he had thought, judging by the pink skin attempting to heal his back. He sighed softly, surprised Merlin had even managed to get on the horse.

“Stay here, I’m going to get some of our supplies from the horses and set up camp, try and relax a little, okay?” he wasn’t sure that Merlin actually heard him, his manservant was staring so blankly into the distance, but he hadn’t moved, even as Arthur gently manoeuvred him onto the ground and settled him against a tree, doing his best to avoid his injuries but knowing he failed. He got their bed rolls from his mare, carefully shaking them out and setting them down next to Merlin. He collected the food from Merlin's mare, and paused. He was going to have to collect firewood… but he really didn’t want to leave Merlin alone in his current state.

“Merlin, I'm going to gather some firewood, please be careful.” Although Merlin showed no signs of having heard him, he set his hunting dagger in the mans hand, curling his fingers around it as kindly as he could, knowing Merlin's hand must have been hurting. Finally, his manservant seemed to stir a little.

“Arthur, no w-wait that’s my job.” He tried to move into a more upright position and hissed through his teeth, his eyes screwed shut in concentration. Something inside Arthur lit up at hearing his name again instead of his title and he smiled.

“Stay put, don’t be an idiot. Ill be perfectly fine.” The reassurance didn’t seem to work, because Merlin was still struggling to stand, and Arthur barely resisted the urge to sigh loudly.

“H-how can I protect you i-if you leave?” Arthur would have laughed at the thought of Merlin protecting him, but his manservant looked so distressed at the thought of harm coming to him and instead he crouched down, gently brushing his knuckles over one sharp cheekbone.

“Hey, listen to me Merlin. Ill be back within the hour, if i'm not you can come look for me, okay?” he subconsciously cupped Merlin's face in his hand, not noticing until he leaned into the touch.

“Okay, Arthur. Please be careful.” Merlin's statement would be insulting if it was anyone else, but Arthur only felt comforted that he cared so much. He gently draped his cape around his shoulders,protecting him from the cold without forcing him to move his arm again. Before he registered what he was doing, he kissed Merlin's forehead, brushed his hair out of his eyes and walked into the woods like nothing had happened. 

When his brain caught up with him he froze a moment, and then he was laughing, his chest heaving with it. Suddenly, it made so much more sense why he cared so much about his manservant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise there will be some comfort eventually aha...


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin comforts Arthur, despite really needing a hug
> 
> Spoiler alert. He gets one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some short but sweet Merlins pov to make up for how much I’m torturing the poor man

When Arthur came back, he looked furious, and for a moment Merlin flinched away, terrified that he was in trouble. Then his brain caught up with him and he relaxed ever so slightly. Arthur was just mad about his father; he wasn’t mad at him. Slowly, each movement hurting more than the last, he stood up and moved over to the Prince, waiting until he had put down the firewood before wrapping his arms around him. He felt the blonde tense, but then strong arms were looping around him, holding him close, and they rocked slowly, a soothing motion that lulled merlin.

“H-hey, its okay to be angry you know. But you n-need to calm down before making any choices.” He was shocked at his own confidence, and it seemed Arthur was too, because he pulled away slightly to look Merlin in the eyes.

“How am I supposed to remain calm knowing that my own father has done something like…that to you, just because he thinks you’re rude?!” the prince sounded genuinely shocked, and Merlin was conflicted on how he felt about it. That wasn’t the reason for this happening…but he couldn’t tell Arthur yet.

“I-its okay, he’s the king, what would you have d-done?” he tried for a reassuring smile, but it made his cheek hurt so badly he winced. Clearly Arthur gathered what he meant, because he shook his head, looking at him with so much love and affection Merlin thought he would burst.

“You never cease to amaze me merlin, you know that?” Merlin grinned, feeling his heart fill with a feeling he couldn’t place.

“Y-yeah, well, just one of my m-many charms.” Merlin expected Arthur to push him away, or scoff, or call him an idiot. Instead, he was stunned when the blonde pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, cradling merlin like he was something precious. Tears sprung to his eyes and he clung tightly to the man he would give everything to protect. Arthurs warm chuckle vibrated in his chest, and for a while they stood, silently swaying to the sounds of the forest turning around them.

When they settled down on their bedrolls, the fire blazing and cooking the rabbit Arthur had caught, Merlin felt himself truly relaxing. Uther couldn’t get to him out here, and Arthur was his friend, he could trust him. He found himself nestling tight into Arthur’s side, eyes fluttering closed once again. Except this time, Arthur didn’t wake him as he began to doze, cozy in one of the old tunics that Arthur had brought, his hair being dried by the warmth in the air, making his curls fall into his eyes. He felt content. Yes, he still hurt all over, yes, he was in constant fear that Uther would do it again upon his return to Camelot. But he knew Arthur would protect him, he was safe here.

With that thought, he lay his head on Arthurs chest, listening to his steady heartbeat as he drifted away to the feel of warm hands carding through his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I love to hear from you 💕


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwaine!
> 
> Gwaine is not impressed when Arthur’s mare nearly runs him over, but he quickly changes his mind when he discovers why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is super long, so it might take a little longer to get a new chapter out after this, sorry!

Gwaine was nearly ran over by Arthur’s mare as she came galloping, riderless, into the courtyard and he was so unimpressed that for a moment he didn’t notice the note tied to her saddle. Carefully, he tugged it off, his other hand absently petting her flank, eyes widening in worry as he read. And then he was running, taking the stairs two at a time until he was at the physicians door in record time. He knocked, waiting impatiently until he heard a familiar ‘enter’.

“Gaius, apologies for barging in, but I need the things on this list, do you have them?” he handed the old man the piece of paper and fidgeted with his hands as he waited for him to read it. He watched a flurry of emotions cross his face and eventually settle on a professional mask.

“I see. Well, unfortunately I can’t help with two of those things, but I can offer you-“ he paused, gathering a handful of bottles Gwaine didn’t recognise and putting them all in a bag “-these will help with pain relief, and of course bandages and fresh water.” He was surprised at the weight of the bag, but thanked Gaius, turning to leave.

“Gwaine, take care of him.” He hoped his smile was reassuring when he turned back to the physician.

“He’ll be okay, he’s merlin.” And with that he was running again, skidding down the stairs and racing past the maids at the bottom, back out into the courtyard, whistling Arthurs mare and practically leaping into the saddle in perpetual motion, spurring her into a gallop that had them in the woods in no time at all. He hoped she still knew the way, because he could do without getting lost in the woods.

As it turned out, the mare had an excellent sense of direction, but began to slow considerably the closer they got to the lake. He’d tried spurring her into a gallop again, but she only slowed further, coming to a stop at the edge of the clearing and refusing to move until he got off and walked her.  


Thanks to grumbling under his breath and being distracted by the bag hitting his thigh every time he walked, Gwaine didn’t notice Arthur until the prince had a sword at his throat. Which was, again, the last thing he needed today. They glared half-heartedly at one another for a moment before it finally seemed to click in Arthur’s thick skull that he sent for him, asked him to bring the supplies, and his sword lowered slowly.

“Gwaine.” Arthurs voice was gravelly with sleep, and Gwaine was struggling to take him seriously when all his hair was sticking up at the back and he was distinctly lacking a pair of boots.

“Princess.” He bowed slowly and Arthur finally huffed, walking further into the clearing, clearly expecting Gwaine to follow. he wondered why they had chosen to disappear into the middle of the woods, but he supposed pretty much anywhere was better than under Uthers watchful eyes. Besides, it wasn’t like Merlin couldn’t defend them from the woodland creatures, and arthur, for all his faults, was admittedly good at waking up at the first hint of danger, so it didn’t really matter where they went, so long as it wasn’t another kingdom.

Gwaine watched as Arthur walked over to merlin and gently shook the bundled up manservant awake. Even through his madly curly hair, it was clear that his face was bruised, and Gwaine found himself taking a deep breath to relax. He was going to impale that pompous dick, whether Arthur tried to stop him or not. Nobody deserved to be king less than Uther bloody Pendragon. The sooner someone assassinated him the better.

“I can hear you thinking from here, Gwaine. Did Gaius have everything?” Arthur sounded worried, and Gwaine decided to trust the prince on this one. It seemed Merlin had made the same choice, because the young warlock had pinned himself to Arthur as best he could, one arm looped around him and the other limp at his side.

“At least I use my brain. And yeah, pretty much.” He walked closer as slowly as physically possible, noticing whenever Merlin flinched and stopping until he relaxed before moving again. Once he was close enough, he held his hand out, palm down and one finger crooked in their usual greeting. Arthur looked confused, but it didn’t matter because Merlin was laughing softly, his eyes finally lighting up with that spark that should never be missing.

“Hey merls, good to see you. Your hair looks great.” He grinned widely at his friend, hoping that the normality would settle him. And sure enough, Merlin was grinning, bloodied lips tugging up and lighting up his entire face with delight.

“Y-you think so? I call I-it ‘I fell in a l-lake and l-let it dry however it w-wanted’.” Gwaine heart broke a little at hearing Merlins stammering, but he still smiled at him. The witty warlock relied on his tongue, and Gwaine hoped that between them they could help him get rid of the fear making him stammer.

“You have been exposed as a curly haired one, now there is no going back.” More carefully, and considerably more slowly than usual, he reached over and ruffled his hair to prove the point. He felt warm when Merlin laughed in response, not even seeming to notice Arthur cleaning the wounds on his legs, distracted by the conversation. He used that to their advantage.

“Why don’t you tell me about the new herbs you’ve been reading about?” He settled beside Merlin, unable to lean against his shoulder like they usually would, but making the position as regular as possible. Merlin chuckled at his antics, already beginning to ramble. His stammering interrupted him every other sentence, but gwaine smiled, never happier to hear his voice. Merlin stayed distracted until Arthur attempted to clean his side, and then he was lashing out. Neither of them saw the move coming, and Merlin landed a solid hit on the prince’s jaw, his pupils blown wide in terror.

“Hey, Merls, buddy, its just us. Arthur was just cleaning your side, we’re not here to hurt you.” Gwaine didn’t dare touch Merlin, but Arthur didn’t have the same reservation, despite just being punched, and carefully moved closer to to the manservant, arm outstretched, leaving it up to Merlin whether or not he could be touched. Cautiously, watching them like they were hiding knives up their sleeves, merlin pulled the arm around his shoulders, cuddling into Arthurs side and letting out a tense breath of air.

“S-sorry” Merlin sounded so small, and Gwaine watched in shock as Arthur pressed a kiss to the man’s hair, the movement easy and familiar. He blinked a few times and just decided to move on and question it later. Moving more carefully, Arthur pressed the cloth back against Merlins skin, watching closely for the moment the pain became too much, and then pulling away. It was slow going, and every now and then they would have to stop altogether because Merlin had zoned out completely, but eventually they had him wrapped in fresh white bandages, Arthur’s tunic tucked under the cloak the prince had given him the night before. And Merlin looked so relaxed, so comfortable despite being curled up on the ground, that Gwaine knew the trouble of getting him cleaned up was worth it. 

Arthur beckoned him over to the other side of the little fire pit, and Gwaine didn’t hesitate to follow. He needed to know what the bastard king had done to his friend, so he could make him suffer when he returned to Camelot.

“Gwaine, I know all you want to do right now is set fire to my fathers robes, but you’re the only other person that knows the extent of his injuries. I need you to track my father, see if you can uncover why he has such a problem with Merlin. There is a book in my chambers that belongs to Merlin, hide it from my father until we get back.” Arthur looked exhausted, and by Gwaine’s guess, had been up most of the night caring for Merlin and whatever nightmares he had. He placed a comforting hand on the Princes shoulder, and to his complete shock, the prince melted into the touch, sighing softly and resting his head on Gwaine’s shoulder. He had never known the prince to be one for seeking comfort, so he was careful when wrapping an arm around him in a half hug. Whatever Arthur had seen was pressing down on him, and there was only so long a person could carry that weight.

“Listen, princess, I’ll make you a deal. If I go in there and figure out what the kings problem is, I get to punch him when it comes to confronting him, are we agreed?” To his relief, Arthur didn’t threaten him with execution for talking badly about the king, instead he chuckled softly, pulling away from Gwaine. The prince rolled his shoulders slowly, managing to summon the energy from somewhere to right his posture.

“You have yourself a deal.” He smiled, holding out his hand like they were signing off a formal treaty. Gwaine offered him a grin in return, glad to see Arthur back to himself, if only for a moment. He turned to leave, but paused at the horses.

“Take Thistle, if we need to return, Merlin can ride with me on my mare.” He waved back at the prince and hopped up into the saddle of Merlins mare, patting her mane affectionately as he settled. He was about to spur her away when Arthur called out, and he froze with his hands halfway to the reigns.

“And Gwaine? Thank you, for all of it.” Arthur looked like it had physically hurt him to admit he had needed that hug, and he couldn’t help a soft laugh.

“Anytime, princess.” He galloped away from the little camp, with a mission in mind and the memory of Merlins wounds fresh behind his eyelids. Arthur said he couldn’t get caught, not that he couldn’t have fun with it.

He had big plans for their dearest king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’d you think of Gwaine? Did I do him justice?


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur does some swimming, and comes to a few realisations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the long wait, my laptop broke down and i just didnt have any motivation. 
> 
> here's a soft chapter full of a stupid prince realising his gay panic to make up for the wait

As it turned out, Merlin was a pretty easy patient to take care of to begin with. He slept, was a lot more relaxed and loose with his words on the rare occasion he tried to put up a protest.

But then he got tired of not being allowed to move, and Arthur found himself chasing a vanishing manservant through the woods every few hours.

It was surprising how quickly a man so injured could move, and on the occasion that Arthur found him settled in the branches of a large oak, he’d spent a long time crafting new insults that he could throw at the other man when given the chance.

After a while of arguing, Merlin had finally come down from the tree, and they eventually came to the agreement of swimming. Or rather, Arthur swam and Merlin dipped his feet in the water, kicking water into Arthur's face every opportunity he was giving, shameless delight on his face when Arthur sputtered on water, hair in his eyes and arms waving to keep himself upright.

It was calmer, out here, with only the trees and wildlife for company, and he began to understand why peasants saw no wrong with living outside, trusting in natural cover and support. Merlin looked so at peace, head tipped back to catch the sun, eyes glinting when he turned to blink lazily at Arthur, that the prince was loathe to take them both back. He realised this must have been how Merlin looked, bruises and scrapes aside, before his arrival in Camelot. The wind-swept hair, light coating of water droplets on his pale skin and gentle beams of sunlight suited Merlin well, and Arthur noticed belatedly that he’d stopped swimming, and was just floating, staring at his manservant like a lovestruck maid. Cheeks burning, he flipped onto his back and pushed away a little further, taking the peaceful moment to try and sort through his emotions, bouncing around in his skull and apparently making it impossible to concentrate. Just when had he started seeing Merlin in such a light? It was blinding in its intensity, a bright candle flame that threatened to swallow him whole If he didn’t get a grip on it soon enough. He’d always known his manservant was attractive, yes, and on one accession had given genuine thought to the prospect of moving past their difference in rank, but he’d always assumed he was in control of those thoughts, had kept them locked carefully in the background where they wouldn’t disturb him.

Apparently, the thoughts were always there, and he wasn’t sure what to do with the knowledge that he would do anything just to see Merlin smile again the way he was now. He would abandon his position as prince if it meant he was better suited to keeping Merlin safe.

Oh fuck. He’d really gone and fallen in love with the _one_ person in the whole kingdom he would never be allowed to marry. He could have any choice of princess he wanted, and yet his brain was hooked on the image of Merlin in lush ceremonial garb, his brow laid in light flowers.

He submerged himself in the cold water.

That was enough of entertaining those thoughts. When he came up for breath, he shook his hair out of his face, physically shaking away the thoughts that seemed insistent on plaguing him. He used his arms to push himself out of the water, settling on the bank beside Merlin and barely resisting the urge to flick water at the dark-haired man. It would be so easy, he was right there, unguarded, but instead he relaxed, leaning back on his arms and relishing in the eeling of the sun drying his skin immediately, relieved that the weather was so good for them. hiding in the woods was all well and good, but if it started snowing, they really would have no choice but to return.

He chuckled to himself, remembering the first time it had snowed in Camelot.

_“Arthur, hey, clotpole! Stop ignoring me!” Merlin’s cheeks were noticeably rosy, and his breath clouded in the brisk air as he struggled to catch his breath. He’d stubbornly chased the prince around the entire castle, despite Arthur’s best attempts to get rid of him, and had somehow managed to sneak around him, coming to a stop in front of the prince in the narrow hallway and refusing to budge. Arthur only wanted some peace and quiet to read his book, but apparently, Merlin and his incessant humming felt the need to interrupt every other sentence, and he’d given up, literally fleeing his own chambers. He didn’t want to yell at Merlin, the snow always made his spirits lift, but the boy was really testing his patience._

_“I, am going for a ride in the woods with my mare. You, are staying here and ensuring my chambers stay heated for my return.” He’d been a little more snappy than he intended, but as usual his tone seemed to bounce right off the stubborn manservant, because he was rocking on the balls of his feet, clearly about to say something incredibly stupid._

_“Well that’s just plain stupid. I cant have you going out alone in this weather, ill prepare our horses and meet you at the gate.” And there it was, a Merlin special. Acting as if he could do anything to either help or protect Arthur if he did get into a less than ideal situation. Arthur didn’t have the patience or willpower for another argument, and had conceded the plan reluctantly, turning back to his chambers to dress in more appropriate attire. It hadn’t even been his plan to go out in the snow, but now that he’d proposed it, he found the idea rather appealing, and had dressed in his warmer tunics, pulled on his coat and tied the laces of his sheep wool boots in the fastest time to that date, eager to leave._

_They had spent the morning riding, and much to Arthur’s shock, Merlin had been dead silent, staring around him in wonderment. Arthur hadn’t thought twice about making fun of him for the expression, but Merlin hadn’t even reacted, blinking in shock when the snow drifted and landed in his stallions mane, decorating the dark strands with little white flecks. Merlin’s own hair had practically been a different colour, and Arthur had to stifle a laugh. The manservant was only wearing his thin brown jacket, which they later realised was a problem, when they’d gotten snowed into a cave._

_At first Arthur had pushed him away, determined to keep some propriety despite the embarrassing situation, but then he’d seen, and heard, how bad his manservant's shaking had gotten, his lips blue and fingers curled tight, stiff. He’d rubbed Merlin's hands to start with, but eventually they resorted to what could only have been described as cuddling._

They had talked a lot, that night in the freezing little cave, and had ridden back to Camelot with a better understanding of one another. Arthur stood beside Merlin and offered support when he was being yelled at by Gaius for near catching hypothermia, and in return, Merlin had pulled faces behind the king when it came to Arthur's own telling off, taking the edge off the harsh words and ruining the depth of his fathers speech entirely.

Maybe that had been when he’d stopped seeing the man as just another servant. The insolent, rude brat became his friend, or as close as they could get to being friends, and Arthur had stopped trying quite so hard to keep a distance between them. Things had always worked better since.

“Wow, there’s b-basically fog coming out of y-your ears. Piece of gold for your t-thoughts?” Merlin was grinning, head tilted to the side, the image of confidence and calm despite his stammer, and Arthur realised he’d missed this Merlin. Yes, he had enjoyed their time together, but having just a shell of the man around him had been painful. 

“Ah shut it. I was just deep in thought.” He was walking right into it, and he hoped Merlin picked up where he left off.

“Y-you, thinking? Well now I am w-worried.” There it was, the second most used jab after ones about his weight. Ones about his intelligence.

“Steady, I could have you put in the stocks for that.” He would never, and Merlin knew that almost as well as he did, so his grin only got wider.

“o-oh no, please not the stocks, w-whatever will I do?” Arthur couldn’t help it, he laughed, loud and open, falling back on his arms until he was sprawled in the grass, the strands tickling his wet skin as he struggled to regain his composure. Their traded jabs had always been such a common part of his adult life, he didn’t realise just how much was missing without them. Merlin turned, offering him a grin, the corner of his lip tilted up and vanishing behind gauze. 

Maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully, back to business as usual now lol


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur thinks some things through, and realises that maybe he isn't on his fathers side at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im so so sorry for the sparodic updates. School has been kicking my head in
> 
> If you're still here, I love you.
> 
> From now on, updates will be roughly every Monday.

Once Arthur had dried off and gotten dressed, they both went for a short walk in the woods. Not too far away from their little campsite, but enough to quench the cooped up fidgeting that Merlin had subconsciously started again. Between tapping fingers and throwing twigs at the trees, Merlin accidentally made it very clear that he wanted to move, and Arthur was bored enough himself to just suggest leaving camp for a while.

  
It was worth the risk of someone invading their camp to see Merlin relax, a smile on his face as he brushed his hand through the branches of low hanging trees, ran his fingers over the tops of flowers, pollen floating up in the air slightly before drifting down and sticking to Arthur’s slightly damp skin. He found he didn’t really mind as Merlin laughed softly.

  
Clearly he’d personally needed more time away from Camelot than he’d thought, because his head felt strangely empty without the stress headache of remembering a daily schedule or meeting, knowing he would have to sit and listen to his fathers strong opinions on magic and try to enthusiastically agree, when really he just wanted to bang his head on the table at the sheer hypocrisy of it all. He knew, thanks to Morgana, that he had been born of magic, so to hear his father spouting horrible lies about magic users while his sister sat right there and bit at her lip, biding her time, was like being punched directly in the throat.

He’d long since lost count of how many times he’d talked her away from using curses to make their father suffer, knew full well that if his father said one more thing even slightly out of line there would be nothing any of them could do to stop her. Nor would anyone want to.

  
Between her year in captivity, doing dark magic training with Morgause and her late night training sessions with Merlin, she would be far too strong for Uther to even stand a chance, guards or no guards.

  
Merlin’s magic. A subject he often avoided, in the hopes that it would stop being a problem someday. Now though, it was apparent that his father would stop at nothing to rid them of even the word magic. He knew his servant would never betray them, and he hadn’t once seen him use magic, only knew that he had it. That didn’t mean Merlin didn’t use it, only that he was at least partly successful in hiding it.   
Morgana, in the hopes that Arthur could help the man hide it, had finally caved in and told him of Merlin’s magic. She’d seen for herself that he could be trusted.

  
And yet Merlin still wouldn’t tell him.

  
Looking over at the man beside him, with his eyes twinkling and his posture relaxed, he knew he wasn’t holding the secret back out of malice. He was afraid.

  
Arthur was going to show him, one way another, that they were on the same side in the war against magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, even if its only a heart 💕


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin finally builds up the courage to use his magic, and somehow, Arthur still doesn't notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're so stupid I love them

Without the fear of being caught by Uther, Merlin was getting alarmingly close to caving in and using his magic in front of Arthur. 

  
The Prince looked almost boneless with relaxation, which was rare when they were in the castle, making him seem to glow with a gentle energy. His blue eyes were bright, and there was pollen in his hair, making his blonde locks look messier than usual.

  
Unable to help it, he grinned softly and ducked his head, whispering under his breath and watching with delight as more flowers covered the ground around their camp, subtle enough to seem normal but still brightening the area considerably.

  
Arthur frowned, and for a moment Merlin’s breath caught, terrified he’d finally taken one too many risks, but then his shoulders relaxed and the corner of his lips quirked up.

  
“They’re very pretty, aren’t they Merlin.” The words were said teasingly, and Merlin didn’t let himself consider that the Prince knew, laughing nervously.

  
“Y-yeah. D-didn’t think a prat like y-yourself would appreciate the wonders of n-nature.” A flash of something unreadable crossed Arthur’s face, and then a playful fist was bumped lightly against his shoulder. The contact was barely there, cautious, but Merlin wanted to melt into it. 

  
“How rude. I’ll have you know I rather like flowers.” The Prince scowled at him in the way he did when he wasn’t really angry, and he grinned back slightly.

  
“I’ll be sure to p-put some in your c-chambers when we return.” He was mostly joking, but he filed the information away for later as he ran his fingers through the little blue flowers in a patch beside him. They brushed through his fingers, catching slightly on his bandages before returning to their natural position, making him smile subconsciously.

  
It felt good finally being free from the confines of the walls, but he found himself longing for Gwen and her warm hugs. She was always so comforting and gentle.

  
He longed for Morgana's strong opinions, her snappy remarks, her willingness to learn. He longed for Gwaine’s stupid pickup lines, his unwavering loyalty.   
Huffing out a soft sigh, he itched just above the bandages on his neck, irritated that he couldn’t wear his usual neck scarf. Arthur noticed immediately, a warm hand wrapping over his and pushing it away from the bandages.

  
“Let it heal Merlin. Last thing I need is you getting an infection out here.” he scowled at the prince and stuck his tongue out, silently grateful that he wasn’t given the choice to pick at his injuries.

  
“S-shut up prat.” He huffed softly, but settled more comfortably nonetheless, leaning slightly towards Arthur before he even realised he was doing it. A warm arm wrapped across his shoulders, making him sigh under his breath, relaxing an inch at a time until he was curled into Arthur’s side. Maybe he could sleep for a while...

  
He drifted off to the feeling of strong arms wrapping more tightly around him, keeping him safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who has suggestions for what could happen next 👀


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur has come to terms with a few things, now that Merlin is starting to recover.
> 
> Ignoring his problems would be a problem for tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sort of a filler before the return to Camelot. I couldn't help but add in my headcanon of Merlin being a bit of an artist, even if it doesn't make sense lol

Arthur wasn’t a stupid young prince anymore, he knew they were starting to run out of time.

  
Three days in the woods had completely diminished their supplies, meaning they would have to return to Camelot soon, despite their equal reluctance.

Merlin looked healthier, eyes brighter and some of his witty remarks returning in a telling sign of how comfortable he was. The stammer hadn’t left, but Merlin seemed less conscious of it. 

  
He’d caught little signs of magic around them again, much to his own relief and horror. They were harmless little things like flowers and treats for his horse that showed Merlin’s strength returning.  
But that didn’t change the fact he'd been raised afraid of magic, taught to fight against it and kill anyone who may have the ability. He watched from afar as Merlin’s eyes flashed gold, carefully didn’t comment when their camp was pleasantly warm without either of them making a fire. 

  
It was a strange feeling, knowing that the reason they were yet to be attacked at night was because of magic. It was even stranger to know that his bumbling idiot of a manservant was the one protecting them.

  
He’d stopped being angry a long time ago, and as he watched Merlin carefully sketch a flower into his little leather-bound book and then bring it to life with a grin, he realised that he never really was. Merlin was no enemy of Camelot, irrelevant of how much his father seemed to believe it.

  
“Y-you're certainly deep in t-thought.” Merlin’s voice was considerably quieter than he’d ever heard it before his father’s intervention, but it was a huge step from the shy mumbling he’d been getting over the days in the woods, so he couldn’t bring himself to mind much that he had to shift closer to be able to hear him properly.

  
“Just thinking...maybe in another time, I could have enjoyed living like this.” He picked at a blade of grass as he spoke, running it between his fingers as he let himself consider it. A calmer, far simpler life than then one he led. One where he didn't have to fear his feelings for the people he cared about, or ignore that he had feelings at all.

  
“You have p-plenty of padding. I’m s-sure s-sleeping on the g-ground would be no b-bother.” His servant was grinning but one hand was anxiously running across the cover of the little book, tracing the slight pattern there.

  
Arthur remembered when he bought it for him. Merlin had looked so utterly shocked the prince thought he was going to die on the spot. It had been Arthur’s turn to be surprised when the young man threw his arms around him before dashing off in the direction of the physicians Chambers so quickly, you’d think he was being chased.

  
“Oh, do I now?” he scowled at the raven-haired man, who was grinning cheekily at him, but made sure to keep his body language relaxed. There had been one too many occasions where he’d accidentally scared the skittish man into thinking he was genuinely upset with him.

  
“Yeah and I’m s-sure it’ll only g-get worse when w-we get back.” Although he was playing it off, they both knew full well how much the shadow of Camelot was looming over them, waiting. 

  
“You’ll just have to stick around to steal all my breakfast then.” He glanced over, relieved when Merlin burst into soft laughter rather than curling into himself like he had the first time he hinted at him doing anything wrong. 

  
A companionable silence settled over the little camp, broken by the soft scratching of charcoal on paper and the near silent sound of his mare snuffling in the grass. 

  
He settled back against the tree, content for now to watch his servant draw and ignore the inevitable stress of returning to Camelot for one more day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you guys enjoying the fluff? The angst will be back soon

**Author's Note:**

> please do tell me if you like it, i love hearing from you!


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